My Beautiful Diamonds

It was a 1996 July summer afternoon at my family’s town home (my first home) in Wauchula, Florida.  I’m not sure where everyone else was as I sat on our brown carpet perfectly aligned with the big television set that had only a limited number of channels – most of which became snow when the antenna wasn’t set up correctly – with my legs crossed and arms propping up my head as a deep, but friendly booming voice alerted me that I was about to watch the “Same Game, New Attitude.”

It Was Fate

Before I could pop up and change the channel – no remotes around there – the Major League Baseball logo flickered onto the screen and then I saw the first diamond I ever fell in love with: the Pittsburgh Pirates’ Three Rivers Stadium.  Oh, and their opponent that day?  The Florida Marlins (I only remember this detail because of their insanely flamboyant teal – which I will always love).  I was only 6, but the more I think of it. . .the more I realize it was fate that led me to hesitate on changing the channel that afternoon. C’mon now. . .diamonds and Marlins baseball?  Fate.

Over the next 2.5 hours I watched as the Pirates lost to the Marlins.  I had no allegiance to a team, yet, but I knew I lived in Florida and that was all I needed to be convinced that I was happy about the outcome.

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This Is What Nostalgia Tastes Like

As a Latina, the memories I treasure most all revolve around one significant aspect of any Latin/Hispanic household: food.

Tortillas de harina (flour tortillas) and fajitas de carne asada (beef fajitas) always wait for me when I return to my parent’s home in our small country town. The tortillas are wrapped snugly in a kitchen towel and the meat is fresh off the comal and sitting perfectly for me to devour them with some salsita. Just one bite fills my mouth with the warmth of how being back with family should feel. After each bite I take a sip of the fresh sweet tea that only my Bella (mom) can make.

Tortillas de maiz (corn tortillas), frijoles (refried beans) and carne molida (ground beef) sizzling in a skillet, that I saw my abuela use so many times, welcomed me into my abuela’s home one of the days prior to her passing away. As we all exchanged hushed conversations, my tia (aunt) and Bella would prepare food since there were visitors tapping on the door to pay their final respects. The dry, yet rich smells of our food filled the house and I couldn’t help, but think that these were the same smells you could find at a child’s birthday party.

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Excuses

For the past few months, I have been struggling with picking up my pen and helping it kiss the blank pages of my notebook. . .well, I’ve been struggling with allowing my fingers to dance over the keys of this board, too.

I spend far too much time at work stringing together the right set of words for the right marketing material, so I can’t possibly focus another few moments on releasing my own thoughts into the world.

I go to the gym in the evening for at least 40 minutes, so my arms are too tired from that last set up push ups to hold my pen.

I need to make a healthy meal so that my body becomes my own version of perfection, so I don’t possibly have time to re-live that one moment that crossed my mind this morning.

Excuses. 

How about we change that?

A nice post

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This is my first post

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aenean commodo ligula eget dolor. Aenean massa. Cum sociis natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Donec quam felis, ultricies nec, pellentesque eu, pretium quis, sem.

Nulla consequat massa quis enim. Donec pede justo, fringilla vel, aliquet nec, vulputate eget, arcu. In enim justo, rhoncus ut, imperdiet a, venenatis vitae, justo. Nullam dictum felis eu pede mollis pretium. Integer tincidunt. Cras dapibus. Vivamus elementum semper nisi. Aenean vulputate eleifend tellus. Aenean leo ligula, porttitor eu, consequat vitae, eleifend ac, enim.

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